


Feral Hallucinations

by Mnojick



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mnojick/pseuds/Mnojick
Summary: Because of the quarantine, I had some time to plan out the remaining chapters, so hopefully, I will update faster. Stay safe y'all.





	Feral Hallucinations

John comes over that evening four hours and 27 minutes late. Which is one hour and 6 minutes later than he had the day before. Which Sherlock could have expected of course. Four hours later than he was supposed to have arrived. But Sherlock doesn't mind. Part of him is glad to get a few moments alone. 

The first time it happens Sherlock is feeling quite a bit better. The pain in his ribs has subsided a bit, enough at least that the pain killers actually seem to work. John comes over late one night, grunting about Molly having come to take care of Rosie for the weekend. 

He’s drunk. Extremely drunk. The heavy scent of whiskey and the man himself permeating the living room. 

Sherlock is just happy John seems to have finally forgiven him enough of his wi

"

"Dont' go." He splutters out. So desperate. He despises the needy tint to his voice. 

pressing John's hair trigger temper is poking the bear, when it comes to but Sherlock somethings feel like he literally can't stop himself. 

They were rained in and Sherlock was going mad. He must have marched around their whole flat a thousand of times.

“John, there is a case!” Sherlock informed him yet again.

“We can’t go out right now. London is practically flooding, no taxi will arrive.”

John continued to read his book dispassionately. To make everything worse there was a power shortage. He had to light actual candles, it was already so dark outside, despite it being only four p.m.

Sherlock kneeled at his feet in one dramatic flourish of motion.

“I can’t stay here when there is a case, John!” The detective whined.

“Yes, you can. Just solve the case in your head, I’ve seen you do that before.”

“I don’t have enough data,” Sherlock sighed desperately, hiding his face in John’s thigh.

John considered him. It was clear he wouldn’t be allowed to read his book in peace anytime soon.

“How about a game?”

If Sherlock were a dog, his ears would have perked.

“What game?”

“How about truth or dare?”

John had not played this since college but it was the only thing that came to mind. This was a game that could easily be turned into something sensual and he was quite needy lately because Sherlock didn’t care for such things while on a case, but he still kept John up to the promise of not feeling good himself.

When John talked with Irene the last time, after he fought with Sherlock about the house in Sussex, she seemed quite amused by his vexation.

_“Why are you so worried about that John? If you want him so much why don’t you just tell him whatever he wants to hear? Aren’t marriages running on the same promise, even though it doesn’t always stay true?” She was having fun with this, John could hear._

_“A marriage is a serious decision made by both partners. He just assumes I will always be his. Am I the only one who thinks this is weird?”_

_“If he assumed that there was no risk of losing you, he wouldn’t have kept playing. But you can back down anytime, John. Why didn’t you?”_

_“Because I hate losing to the smug git?”_

_“If Sherlock’s objective is to make you agree to be exclusively his, then wouldn’t your breaking it off completely mean he lost?”_

_“No, it would mean I chickened out.”_

_The woman laughed._

_“I think by this point you can just admit you want to be taken, John.”_

_“Yeah, whatever you tell yourself. I just want to make him lose control like he’s been doing to me for a long time. If I can get Sherlock to break his own rules, I win.”_

_“Yes, it’s completely not about wanting his –“_

_“I get it! Just tell me what I’m supposed to do. If anyone knows how to snap his restraint it’s you.”_

_“Hmmm,” she never lost her amusement even when pensive, “If Sherlock is focused on controlling himself it will be very hard to break it. I doubt you can surprise him, so you don’t need to plot covertly. Just lose all your reserves, John. Do whatever you feel like, act in whatever way you think may work. Be daring, that is your chance. And don’t get discouraged. Games are for having fun.”_

So they could have some fun. John was quite bored anyway, he could use the distraction of having Sherlock’s attention on himself.

After a few innocent requests such as making Sherlock bring them wine, or asking if John ever stole anything, there came a time for a change of pace.

“Did you ever have sex?” He asked Sherlock and the detective didn’t seem that surprised by it.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“That means?”

“Depends on what you mean by sex. I consider what I do with you sex.”

“But before me?”

“I did perform some sexual acts, yes.”

“But you never had penetrative sex?”

“No, I did not.”

“Did you ever come with anyone?”

The possibility made John strangely jealous.

“Isn’t that too many questions for one truth? Your turn, John. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Kiss me.”

John snickered.

“That’s a very simple request.”

He scooted closer to Sherlock on the couch and leaned over the detective. He was going for his lips but when Sherlock closed his eyes John felt petulant enough to change his course and kiss only the corner of it, landing mostly on his cheek.

Sherlock opened his eyes with amused irritation.

“You never said where to kiss you,” John threw at him smugly.

Sherlock moved closer to him, adamant on receiving his kiss, but John put his hand on Sherlock’s mouth.

“Ah, ah. Truth or dare, Sherlock?”

Sherlock took the hand off, not letting it go.

“Dare.”

If Sherlock thought John was going to request a kiss in return, he was mistaken.

“Take off your shirt.”

John had many occasions to see Sherlock’s chest before, but it always amazed him how much thinner Sherlock seemed in his dress shirts. He was, of course, quite thin, but his chest was sculpted, his wiry muscles strengthened by whatever strange martial arts he trained.

It was also so incredibly milky in colour. John couldn’t stop himself from admiring it.

“Satisfied?” Sherlock asked, throwing the shirt on John’s lap.

“Yeah,” John smirked right back at him. “Dare.”

“Wear it.”

“Wear what?”

“My shirt.”

John shrugged and started taking off his jumper.

“Only my shirt,” Sherlock added after a dramatic pause.

“What?”

He shouldn’t have been so taken aback. Sherlock had seen him naked before in more embarrassing situations.

“Come on, John,” Sherlock hurried, entertained.

John reacted by slowing down the progress. When he took down his trousers he looked back at Sherlock.

“Can I leave my underwear on?”

At least, Sherlock allowed this with an infuriatingly benevolent expression.

John felt weird in just his Gucci underwear (a present from Sherlock understandably) and the slightly oversized blue shirt. He felt especially unsettled by Sherlock’s unwavering gaze on him. He knew he had to get back to making Sherlock feel bothered.

“Truth or dare, Sherlock?”

He already had a dare in mind, but Sherlock picked truth.

“How come you can take so much stimulation without needing to … deal with it?”

“I find that the combination of focus and good muscle control around the corporal smooth muscle that I’ve learned practicing Baritsu can be of great help. The body is controlled by the brain and the brain must be trained.”

“And this really works?” John asked surprised.

“Usually. It proves to be quite a challenge sometimes.”

John smirked.

“Am I making it hard for you?”

Sherlock looked at him intensely.

“Your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Tell me your fantasy.”

“That’s more of a dare, isn’t it? But fine,” John had to wonder for a bit. He had an entire library of sexual fantasies.

“Do you remember when you gave me a bath in Italy? I had imagined you joining me at that time. Telling me to wash you.”

Sherlock interrupted him by snickering.

“What?” John asked, abashed.

“I never said it had to be a sexual fantasy, John.”

“Oh, sod off. Truth or dare?”

“Was that all of it?”

“All that I’m going to tell you.”

“Shame. I quite liked it. Truth.”

“Do you like it when I call you ‘daddy’?”

Sherlock’s face contracted interestingly.

“You always react so oddly when I say that. I can’t guess if you like it or hate it.” John explained. He meant to tease Sherlock with the question, but now he was honestly curious about that.

“The problem, John, is that I like it entirely too much. Ludicrously so.”

“So the illogicality of it bothers you?”

“Among other things.”

For a while now Sherlock’s gaze was becoming more and more intense. John wasn’t much surprised when he heard his next dare.

“Go to the kitchen. Find something appetizing and feed me with your lips.”

They really had very little food while on cases. John was short of ideas when he noticed a bowl with whipped cream made yesterday by Mrs Hudson and only left here because Sherlock apparently liked it very much, though John had never seen him eat it. He had no other choice really, so he took a chance, taking a bit into his mouth. He wasted no time in getting back to Sherlock and holding his head, passing the sweet substance onto Sherlock’s tongue. Sherlock didn’t let him get away, playing with his tongue, licking all of the cream off. By the end, they were both panting.

“Did you like that, Daddy?” John whispered over Sherlock’s mouth, remembering Irene’s advice to be daring.

Sherlock made a low sound in his throat and moved his hands to John’s waist. He tried to push John down on the couch but John caught his wrist and straightened his body.

“Play fair. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Sherlock answered impatiently. Whatever he thought John would make him do, he was going to be disappointed.

“Pick up my book and read from it as seductively as possible.”

Sherlock groaned and John was pleased and amused by his frustration. He forgot about a tiny detail though. Sherlock had an extremely sexy trembling baritone. In fact, it was one of the things John noticed about him right away, long before he thought he might be attracted to him.

Sherlock didn’t even try to choose anything in particular, he started reading the random page he opened on; “People dance too close. She was there. I’d only gone because I hoped she would be. I took a long walk around the block taking a few extra lefts and rights …”

John hardly registered the words. Sherlock could pitch his voice so low that anything he said sounded like an invitation. John could feel himself being enveloped by this velvety sound to the point he couldn’t even react when Sherlock finished reading and approached John again, taking his chin in his hand.

“Your pupils are blown so wide, John,” he continued in the same tone he read in, “do you want to forget the game and move to the bedroom?”

John was too lost in Sherlock’s eyes to answer for a moment.

“What?”

“I said-“

“No, it’s fine. I want to keep playing.”

He will not be the first one to give in. He might lose to Sherlock in many things but this one he can win.

“Very well. Truth or dare?”

John doubted he could take a dare without going too far at this moment.

“Truth.”

Sherlock gave him a pretty neutral question, thankfully.

“What pet names are acceptable for you?”

“What are my choices?” John answered with humor.

“For example honey? Sugar?”

“Definite no.”

“Darling?”  
  


“I don’t feel it.”

“Love?”

“Reminds me too much of my grandma.”

“Baby?”

John opened his mouth and closed it again. God.

“That one’s fine,” he said looking down.

“Really? I can call you that?” Sherlock had his excited puppy face on.

“Not in public. And don’t overdo it.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” Sherlock answered teasingly and John already regretted his choices.

“Behave. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Are you –“ John started, then abruptly stopped himself.

He was going to ask Sherlock if he was in love with him. What was he thinking? He was not prepared for the answer, whatever it may have been.

“Do you want to fuck me?” He asked instead and reveled in Sherlock’s scandalized face.

“That’s unfair. I gave you an easy question,” Sherlock answered with petulance.

“This isn’t a hard question.”

“What do you think, John?” Sherlock asked him exasperatedly.

“I don’t accept that as an answer.”

"Mary?" He shudders, his voice a guttural snarl. "Fuck Sherlock, if you only knew."

Sherlock sighed, irritated, and leaned closer. Thinking that he was to be kissed, John automatically closed his eyes, but Sherlock just started talking softly straight into his ear.

"I want you so much, Sherlock. So fucking much it hurts. I ache to be inside you, did you know that? Did you deduce badly I fantasize about come deep inside you. Make you scream. Make you come untouched. You're so sensitive I know I could make you come just from stimulating your prostate. I would do it, make you come again and again and again, all night. I would drive you insane from pleasure."

Hearing those words, the dark promise in them so 

John had been pretty excited before. Now, ignoring the hardness was impossible and he mewled when Sherlock bit his earlobe.

When he opened his eyes Sherlock was looking at him in a dangerous fashion.

“Is that what you wanted to hear, John?” He said accusingly.

“Yes, in fact, this is exactly what I wanted,-” John grinned, “-to hear. Dare.”

Sherlock wasted no time. “Don’t make a sound.”

“What?” Before John could even process the command, Sherlock leaned down and bit his nipple through his own dress shirt. John managed to remain quiet only by biting his hand.

Form the very beginning of their liaison Sherlock could play his body like a fiddle. John was sure it had a lot to do with his extraordinary capacity to observe. By now he was practically a master in drawing reactions out of John.

He had no chance really, when Sherlock removed the hand he was biting, interweaving their fingers. The sensation of the lips on his chest through the thin material of Sherlock’s shirt, of his hand on John’s spine, was too much and John could predict his defeat.

But Sherlock stopped. John was already at the point of forgetting the game and allowing him anything, but his words reminded him of what they were doing.

“Good boy,” Sherlock said, kissing his temple. “I pick dare.”

John felt so hot and so hard, but mostly, he felt vindictive.

“Don’t move,” he mimicked Sherlock’s commanding tone.

In contrast to the man, he made no rash or sudden movements, which took more of his self-control than he thought he possessed. He moved Sherlock lightly to rest against the couch and straddled his lap. Sherlock watched him with calm fascination, though his pupils were very wide and John could feel he was hard against his thigh. John started just by running his hands up and down Sherlock’s naked chest, not to tease him, just because he really wanted to. It was already completely dark outside, the only light was from the candles, of which half had gone out. They were enveloped in this semi-darkness and it helped get John in the right mood, not be too hasty, try to be sensual. He begun kissing Sherlock’s lips lightly, giving little pecks to his upper lip, then to the lower one, later using his tongue to lick the same trail. By the time he used the slight gap left open to put just the tip of his tongue inside, Sherlock’s lips were swollen.

John was focused on kissing him but he moved other parts of his body as well, almost completely on instinct. His hands roamed Sherlock’s chest and his hips changed position on the detective’s lap. He himself was a little surprised when their cocks touched through Sherlock’s pants and John’s boxers. Sherlock exhaled a heavy breath into his mouth, his chest rising and falling heavily against John’s hands. John moved his lips to Sherlock’s neck, shifting his hips subtly. The need to rut against Sherlock was overwhelming, but he focused on leaving little bites on Sherlock’s collarbone instead.

He leaned away and saw that Sherlock was barely holding himself together. He was red, both from excitement and the effort of keeping still.

He could have continued, could have made Sherlock lose control or come in his pants, but he kind of admired the restraint it took not to move when he very visibly wanted to. It also seemed unfair, when Sherlock had spared him on his last dare.

“Okay, Sherlock. You can move now. Breathe, you look like you’re going to suffocate.”

Sherlock started breathing, freeing his muscles from rigidly holding his body in one place. He posed his hands above John’s hips and moved him slightly back from his cock.

“Your techniques not helping you now?” John goaded.

Sherlock looked at him with thinly veiled murderous intent. John left his lap, putting a small distance between them on the couch.

“John,” Sherlock’s voice was hoarse, making John shiver. “Truth or dare?”

He was seriously beyond being able to take more of it for long. Whatever Sherlock wanted him to do, he better make it quick.

“Dare.”

“Show me where you would like me to touch you,” Sherlock’s eyes told John he was similarly running out of patience.

That was such a hard thing to do. John wanted Sherlock to touch him everywhere.

A brilliant idea crossed his overheated brain. He took Sherlock’s right hand and put it on his cheek, holding it with his own.

“I want you to touch me here,” John said to Sherlock’s baffled expression.

He moved Sherlock’s hand to his chin so that Sherlock’s thumb was touching his lower lip. “And here.”

Then he moved his hand slightly up, taking two of Sherlock’s fingers inside his mouth, sucking for a moment. He looked straight into Sherlock’s eyes while he did it and smirked at his full body shiver.

When he took the fingers out, he moved Sherlock’s hand to rest on his throat, made him close his palm around it a bit. Sherlock gasped.

“Here,” John’s voice had taken on a strange unknown quality. Sherlock looked mesmerized by him.

John moved the hand again, down to his covered nipple, making Sherlock’s thumb move over it. “Here,” he continued onto the other nipple “and here.”

He made Sherlock’s fingers move along his breastbone, down his stomach, onto his clothed cock.

“Here is a good place,” he told Sherlock with breathless amusement, moving to his balls, “here is nice too.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened when he moved their hands further, ghosting Sherlock’s fingers against his hole underneath the boxers - “here would be fine as well.”

John bit his lip and kept himself from pressing Sherlock’s fingers stronger against him, meaning to move them further down his leg but Sherlock tore his hand out from John’s.

“Enough, John,” he said in a demanding voice and John felt instant disappointment.

“Fine, I’ll just go-“

“Enough with this truth or dare game,” Sherlock clarified.

Sherlock was very fast and relied a lot on surprising his opponents. He managed to catch the underside of John’s thigh and the back of his head instantaneously, pulling John down to lay on the couch, the hand on his head saving John from a painful impact with the armrest.

“Impatient?” He asked, but very soon he had no way to form words, just unintelligible sounds. 

Sherlock wasted no time in taking off John’s boxers, while furiously kissing him. John could note he was very worked up, he usually used more technique when he sucked John’s cock. Not that John minded, they had been at this game for hours and he was seriously able to explode if a gust of wind hit him right.

He didn’t have much of Sherlock to touch so he kept his hands in his hair. He tightened his grip when Sherlock skimmed over his balls and opened his eyes wide when he felt Sherlock’s tongue against his perineum.

He had no chance against the wet heat and pressure against his nerve endings, coupled with Sherlock’s hand stroking his dick. He wasn’t even embarrassed he came so fast. 

When he finished coming down from his high and started breathing semi-normally, he looked at Sherlock. The detective was clearly on the very edge and John asked him, really just to be nice;

“Want some help there, Daddy?”

Sherlock shot up from the couch.

“No, thank you,” he answered adamantly as if he was Jesus rejecting Satan in the desert.

“Suit yourself!” John called after his rapidly retreating form before Sherlock managed to close the bathroom door.

John smiled to himself and stretched with contentment. One win over Sherlock a night was quite enough.

### Notes:

> Because of the quarantine, I had some time to plan out the remaining chapters, so hopefully, I will update faster. Stay safe y'all.


End file.
